Warning: understatement ahead. Life sure is different now, what with the pandemic and all it entails.Continue reading
Advent is a time of waiting. The word “advent” itself means “waiting.” Aside from the theological implications of waiting for the savior to be born, this time of year always finds me waiting for that moment when it feels like Christmas. Sometimes Christmas arrives at an unexpected moment in mid-December, sometimes when a congregation holds flickering candles in a darkened sanctuary and sings “Silent Night” to close a Christmas Eve service, sometimes when I go to see my family between Christmas and New Year’s, sometimes not at all. Past attempts to make Christmas show up have been unsuccessful. This year I’m still patiently waiting.
Valentine’s Day was last weekend. I just found some boxes of those little conversation heart candies that I had picked up in mid-January as an impulse purchase, stashed, and promptly forgot about. Too late to hand them out, might as well crack open a box. They weren’t what I remembered.